


together we're stronger

by towokuwusatsuwu



Category: HiGH&LOW: the Story of S.W.O.R.D. (TV)
Genre: Banter, Cuddling & Snuggling, Enemies to Lovers, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, introductions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 13:46:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15365982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towokuwusatsuwu/pseuds/towokuwusatsuwu
Summary: ice has been waiting for the day when cobra introduces him to the other leaders of the s.w.o.r.d. gangs but now that the day is here, ice could not be more nervous. the four men cobra calls his own are happy enough to meet him and welcome him in just the same.





	together we're stronger

Ice likes motorcycles. He doesn’t ride his own nearly enough but he likes hitching a ride on one when he can and this is no different; arms around Cobra’s waist, legs lined up neatly behind his, his chest against Cobra’s back. This is the best way to ride. He lets his cheek lay against Cobra’s shoulder blade, admiring the control with which he maneuvers the bike, how well he knows the streets that belong to Sannoh Rengokai. Ice can hardly say the same thing about his own territory, unused to having something to call his own and wary about growing too comfortable in a space that might be yanked from beneath him at any moment.

Even now, his stomach roils with nerves, his hands maybe pressing a little too hard into Cobra’s gut where they’re linked together around his waist. He knows better than anyone what rejection tastes like, the bitter pill he’s had to swallow more often than not. Not strong enough, not soft enough, too playful or too serious depending on which part of his life people have met him during. Ice has never been good enough for most people, and he knows what it feels like to be looked down on by those around him. Few people in his life ever stayed around.

The Mighty Warriors are an exception, and Prison Gang though still in his worst moments, Ice wonders if they stay around because Jesse is their leader and Jesse would die at Ice’s side before willingly walking away. Ice trusts his people to have his back and he knows they will and knows the chances of them ever walking away are so slim he can hardly imagine a situation where it might happen. But Cobra is not a member of the Mighty Warriors, and neither are the men he’s bringing Ice to meet this evening.

Above them, the sky is streaked with oranges and pinks and purples, the incoming night rising slow on the horizon while the sun sinks to sleep and takes most of its glow with it. The intention was to come earlier but Ice was busy with club matters and Cobra was never one to push, loitering around the “office” Ice keeps and handing him what he needed when he asked for it. Originally, everyone had been nervous to have the leader of Sannoh Rengokai in and out of the Funk Jungle so often, but eventually Cobra became just another feature.

Ice has told himself a thousand times over that pretty boys like Cobra do nothing for him; he likes a man with substance and style, rough around the edges and scarred up from a long hard life of doing what it took to survive. Ryu has scars, and pressure, and the weight of an impossibly large organization to balance. Even Bernie has scars and a past he wants to forget, an airhead to most people but wickedly smart enough to do anything once his fingers touch a keyboard. People might fault Ice for a lot of things, but no one can call him shallow.

Cobra is different. A pretty boy for sure, no venom to match up to that name of his and he might have fought for his friends and his city but he lacks that edge that Ice favors in his partners, the bitterness, the poison that draws Ice like a moth to the flame. He knows it might not be healthy but it’s how he operates and his people stay and he loves them, and they love him, so he must be doing something right. It only makes him all the more nervous, prepared for the day when Cobra decides Ice can’t fit into his sunshine-and-flowers future and walks away.

It might not have bothered Ice once upon a time if he did that, but now it would. The fact his stomach keeps churning the deeper they drive into Sannoh territory is proof of this and he presses his cheek harder against Cobra’s back, willing this meeting to go over well because he has no doubt Cobra would make the hard choice between Ice and the other men in his life if it came right down to it. After all, the Mighty Warriors are drifters with no real home and S.W.O.R.D. is the only home Cobra has never known, the one he fights for.

When they dismount outside of Cobra’s apartment building, Ice feels sick to his stomach and he feels weak because of it. He should never have gotten involved in any of this, took Ryu’s advice, and made sure that he never got attached to the leader who refused to give up on him and his. But Ice is bad at taking any advice that does not belong to him even when it comes from one of the smartest people he’s ever met.

“Hey.” Cobra’s voice is low, throaty. “Ice, what’s wrong?”

Ice tries to laugh off the question but the sound is not quite right when it leaves his throat, and when Cobra winces, Ice knows he heard it, too.  _ Fuck. _ “Nothing, babe. Nice building.”

“Something’s wrong.” Never one to let anything go, at least not like this, Cobra steps closer to him, right up into his personal space. “You know you can talk to me. We agreed to talk if something was wrong. Didn’t you say that’s how you and yours keep things going?”

“Wasn’t supposed to  _ remember _ that,” Ice teases, but Cobra’s expression remains serious. “Fine, fine. Guess I’m just nervous to meet your men. Could pretend it was just me before now.”

Cobra’s expression softens and while Jesse might hate just how much of a sap Cobra is, Ice appreciates it. He’s like a fairytale prince come to life, always knowing what to say and what to do, always reaching for the right thing no matter how cheesy. Now, he takes a step closer and slips both arms around Ice’s waist, holding him so gently that Ice feels almost embarrassed even as he rests his arms on Cobra’s shoulders, not quite holding him back but more using him as a convenient rest for them.

“There are a lot of men in my life,” he says softly, and Ice nods; there’s a lot in his life, too. “But that doesn’t mean that you don’t have a place in it, and it doesn’t mean you’re going to be displaced because of them. Now, let me take you inside to meet them.”

Cobra’s apartment is on the top floor of the apartment complex and just before they reach the door, he suddenly clasps Ice around the waist again, spinning him around and pressing him up against the dark red bricks. It’s sudden and Ice’s breathing trips a little when Cobra’s hand comes to rest beside his head, keeping him pinned in place. Cobra’s eyes are dark and serious as they meet his and Ice’s lips twist just a little into a grin; it feels like a romance drama, having a brooding hot guy pin him to a wall like this.

“Come here.” Cobra grips him by the chin and kisses him and Ice squeaks against his lips, surprised by the sudder ferocity. It ends in the kiss, though; Cobra is thorough but gentle, licking into Ice’s mouth with such slow care that Ice feels his knees knock together from it.  _ Damn _ , he got lucky with this man. “You mean a lot to me. Remember that when I take you inside, okay?”

Ice feels just slightly dizzy when Cobra pushes himself off of the wall. “You got it, lover boy.”

Cobra unlocks the front door and swings it inward; Ice can hear the sound of a television playing and conversation on top of it, playful bickering from the sound of it. Abruptly, his throat squeezes shut and he forces himself to take a deep breath, ignoring the way it burns in his chest as he looks at Cobra. When Cobra waves for him to walk into the apartment, Ice nods, continues to lean against the wall for a minute or two, then sucks it up and walks inside, the cool air of the apartment much nicer than the heat of the coming spring heavy in the air.

“Cobra-chan, where have you— Oh.” The voice is one Ice knows all too well; Murayama Yoshiki is sitting on the couch just past the door so that Ice is standing behind him. Twisted around and up on his knees, leaning against the back of the couch like an excited child, he stares up at Ice with an unreadable expression. “You were serious when you said you were bringing him by.”

“Yes.” Cobra shuts the door and locks up. “Everyone, this is Ice. You know him as the leader of the Mighty Warriors. Ice, you know everyone here. Murayama of Oya High, Rocky of the White Rascals, Hyuga of Daruma Ikka, and Smokey of the Rudeboys.”

Ice is good with people and good with introductions but for the first time, Ice’s voice is dead in his throat, his hands sweating as his eyes scan the four men now staring at him. Murayama is not alone on the couch; Smokey is on his other side, leaning against the arm, while Hyuga seems to have taken up residence in Rocky’s lap in a recliner not far from the couch. All of them are so close, so immediate that Ice barely has time to process one of them, much less all of them. He wants to say something, anything. Nothing comes to mind, though.

_ Shit, _ he thinks.  _ This isn’t how it was supposed to go. _

“Oh,” Murayama says. “You’re nervous? That’s funny. You weren’t nervous when you and your men were invading our homes and—”

“Yoshiki,” Smokey says suddenly, sternly.

Murayama sighs at him. “I’m only teasing. He can take a joke. You can take a joke, right, Ice?”

“‘Course,” Ice says, though he’s not sure Murayama meant it so much as a joke as he did a dig he knew he could get in at least once. “Uh, nice to meet you all formally.”

Cobra slips an arm around his waist and Ice immediately feels a little bit better, leaning in to Cobra, letting Cobra be the anchor he needs to keep his head on his shoulders and his feet on the ground. “I told you all that he was interested in working with us, didn’t I? And I meant it. And I told you I’d bring him here, so you better make him feel welcome.”

Smokey offers Ice a small smile. “Of course. Would you like to sit down?”

“There’s room beside me.” Murayama pats the empty cushion beside him with a meaningful look and Ice eyes it uncertainly. “You can kick Hyuga-chan out of Rocky’s lap if you really want to. He usually doesn’t put up that much of a fight.”

“That’s fine, I’ll just sit on the couch.” Ice didn’t come here to start a fight, after all.

Hyuga lifts his head from Rocky’s shoulder, an exasperated expression on his face. “Murayama, shut up. Stop trying to start shit. Also I’m  _ not _ moving. I’m comfortable.”

“At least one of us is,” Rocky muses.

Cobra lets go of Ice when Ice moves to sit down beside Murayama, drifting across the living room, a hand running down the side of Rocky’s face and maybe Ice’s breath catches just a little at the sight of that. He knows the leader of the White Rascals, the hardass Ranmaru had beaten bloody, the one Jesse took down on his own territory. But he doesn’t know this man, who leans into Cobra’s touch so easily like it’s natural to do so, fingers curling around Cobra’s waist.

“Want me to relieve you?” Cobra asks.

Rocky smirks up at him. “Thought you’d never ask. He’s all yours.”

“All right. Come here, Hyuga.” Cobra picks Hyuga off of Rocky’s lap like he weighs nothing, but then Ice has been in that embrace before and he’s seen Cobra catch people who come flying at him— usually Bernie or Brown, sometimes Pearl— so maybe it really is nothing to him. When Hyuga whines, Cobra only adjusts his grip on him. “Rocky, I need the chair still.”

Rocky gives the chair up without a fight and comes over to the couch; Murayama makes a face up at him but crawls into Smokey’s arms when Rocky raises an eyebrow at him. The silent communication registers on Ice’s radar; they can talk without saying a word, an accomplishment for men who spent most of their time fighting each other. Then Rocky sits himself down next to Ice and he isn’t sure if that’s better or worse than Murayama, not sure where he registers on the radars of any of these people or what they truly think about him.

“You okay?” Rocky’s voice is deeper than the others, soft and almost sultry without having to try to be. He touches Ice’s knee gently. “It’s overwhelming, isn’t it? You’re not usually so quiet.”

Ice doesn’t see the point in lying. He knows the value of communication, after all. “Yeah,” he says, his voice coming out a little raspier than intended. “It’s a lot all at once.”

“We should drink.” Murayama hops off of Smokey’s lap and half-climbs over the back of the couch, almost kneeing Rocky in the side of the head in the process. “Beer? Smokey, you don’t drink, so soda? Water? Whatever I can find?”

“Fine with me,” Smokey says, shifting to lean against Rocky’s side.

Murayama makes a circle with his finger and thumb and disappears from the room, slipping through a doorway Ice assumes must lead to the kitchen. The quiet in the room isn’t as stifling as he feared it might be, broken up by the television. Cobra looks comfortable in the recliner with Hyuga curled up on his lap, an arm around his lower back and the other tucked in the bends of his knees. Hyuga’s nuzzled his face into the crook of Cobra’s neck and they look cozy together, and Ice isn’t jealous, he isn’t, but he’s missing that cuddling contact right now when he feels so out of sorts around these people he barely knows.

Rocky leans over so that when he speaks, his lips brush right up against Ice’s ear; the contact makes him shudder all over. “You look like you want that right now.”

“Man, what, you read minds?” Ice demands. It comes out a little harsher than he intends but he hears Smokey giggle on Rocky’s other side.

“What if I can? You’ll just have to get to know me better to know for yourself.” Rocky pats his lap invitingly. “I don’t mind being a chair for other people. Hyuga just turns into dead weight after a while so it’s harder to hold onto him. But feel free.”

Ice eyes him uncertainly. “You ain’t pissed at me?”

“If Cobra says we can trust you, then we can trust you. We spent too much time not listening to Cobra and it got us nowhere. Together, we’re stronger.” Rocky smiles at him, and Ice blinks; he’s handsome up close, a lot more than when he’s fighting actually. “So feel free.”

Ice hesitates for only a moment longer before he takes Rocky up on the invitation, letting himself be drawn up into the older man’s lap, bracing an arm around Rocky’s shoulders to get his balance while he settles on top of Rocky’s thighs. He’s strong, all muscle beneath the nice white button-down and matching slacks, and he looks all too proud of himself, shooting Cobra a look across the room while Smokey laughs helplessly against his back.

“What is it?” Ice asks, turning to look at him.

“He’s trying to make Cobra jealous,” Smokey informs him, rubbing his hand up and down Ice’s back. “Cobra’s had you all to himself and Rocky’s been teasing him about being jealous.”

Ice might be imagining it, but he thinks the expression on Cobra’s face slides toward something unimpressed when Rocky situates his arms around Ice’s waist.

“I have drinks— Oh we changed seating again.” Murayama rolls his eyes, shoving two cans of beer into Hyuga’s limp hands before coming back over to the couch. He hands a can to Rocky, keeps one for himself, and passes Smokey a bottle of water before holding the last can just out of Ice’s reach. “You’re really pretty, you know that? No wonder Cobra-chan hogged you all to himself instead of sharing like he  _ said _ we were going to do.”

“Is that so?” Ice looks at Cobra, who busies himself with opening his can of beer.

Murayama smirks, handing Ice his beer before taking Ice’s empty seat, kicking his socked feet up in Ice’s lap. “That’s so, yeah. One of my boys doesn’t like you and it’s going to take some getting used to but I don’t mind you being here. I really was just teasing you.”

“Yoshiki’s like a child. He bullies the people he likes,” Smokey offers helpfully.

“It’s called having  _ fun, _ stick in the mud.” Murayama cracks his can against Ice’s with a bright smile. “I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship. Or more, if you’re into that. I hope you are, because that’s kind of what we’ve got going on here and I’m gonna be jealous as hell if Cobra-chan gets to keep you all to himself. He has like twenty boyfriends.”

“I do  _ not, _ ” Cobra says, exasperated. “But Ice does, remember? Mighty Warriors and Jesse’s people. I’m not the one with the advantage here.”

Murayama’s eyes widen and he practically crawls on top of Ice. “Are they included? Do we get to meet them? I want to meet the one with the knife.”

“That’s Brown,” Ice offers helpfully.   


“Yeah, him! He left a nasty cut on Yamato’s hand, it was the best.” Murayama sounds like he’s savoring it while Cobra only pulls a face and shakes his head.

Ice finds himself relaxing against Rocky’s chest the longer the evening wears on. Maybe this isn’t going to be so bad after all.


End file.
